Polychromatic
by cicatricum
Summary: [Previously known as Intercept] Depictions of various mixed PPG/RRB pairings one shots. Ratings vary.
1. Chapter 1: Excessive Conversation

**Title: Excessive Conversation**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairing: Boomer/Buttercup**

 **Warnings: Infidelity...**

 **Notes: I can't really find a lot of mixed pairings around so I decided to fool around with this. It's not something I'm immediately dedicated to, but I'll update when the plot bunnies come (you could contribute to that). This is a no-powers AU. So they're normal af.**

 **[Editted]**

* * *

The afternoon after it had begun, the weather was fine if not overcast, and she was in the café they frequented. She had to break it off.

Boomer liked his coffee black with two sugars and a dollop of cream dumped on the top.

Buttercup didn't have to look twice to know the waitress had confused her 'usual' with Boomer's. She didn't complain, instead taking a few brave sips and managing not to wince in disgust.

The café is the same. The white wallpaper with splashes of a creamy brown paint manipulated to look as if someone had thrown their coffee at the wall remained intact. The divine smells of multiple sugar filled bitter brews pleasantly calming her mind. Though it looked demure, they always served their coffees and teas in big, round mugs.

That reminded her of Boomer. Every crevice, smell, and booth. They all reminded her of Boomer.

She took another scalding sip. It burned, but it felt better than her hot tears mercilessly staining her cheeks. The quick uneven pants she released made her throat raw and a dainty hand covered her mouth so suppress a sob. God, she hated crying. She hated this pain, and that Boomer had caused it. No, that wasn't exactly true, she was fully capable of making her own decisions - this was her fault.

The caffeine fueled drink was disgusting, as always, the bitter aftertaste on her tongue lasted much too long. And yet for some obscure reason she still drank it. It still gave her the same buzz would give any other human, she still felt that buzz whether or not she liked the coffee. Perhaps that might've been enough, if it wasn't for the disgusting aftertaste she might've drunk it just for the sake of of it.

She quickly set the mug down and wiped her face as the the bell signalled the entrance of a customer, announcing the center of all of Buttercup's dubious affections.

Boomer strode to her, his eyes dull and refusing to meet hers. Once he took a seat he immediately noticed the half-empty mug of coffee.

" _You_ drank coffee?" He asked, slightly teasingly, brow raised.

"Yes." She snipped. Unwilling to continue drinking it, she suggestively pushed the mug toward him, swallowing at the hint of amusement in his eyes as he took it and sipped the warm brew. She was grateful that he didn't mention how it was his preferred cup.

"You left this morning." He said, a little tiredly.

"I don't know what you were expecting."

He regarded her second-long frown with a sense of trepidation that hung in his next words, "I wanted you to stay."

She disregarded all that she felt for the moment, so that she could speak the truth. What needed to said. She wouldn't say that she'd felt a blithe attachment when waking up next to him. They had been foreshadowing an already broken relationship, one that they had to stop pursuing. She told him; "I went because you stayed. It was a mistake, you have a wife."

His eyes sparked, slightly, but enough for her to notice his rising anger. "I'm fucking aware of that, Buttercup."

"Do you think I want this?" She was on the verge of tears again, but her blood boiled. "I'm with you, every single single day I have to see that ring shine on your finger, _every_ single day." She wiped a rogue tear away. "I have no one to go home to. I don't want this Boomer."

"Do you think _I_ enjoy this?" Boomer brushed a hand through his hair

"You hurt me." She felt like throwing the mug in his face, flipping the table. Her voice trembled in both resentment and misery.

"I know."

"I wish you never got married." She was just spewing words, words that never should've crossed her mind

"So do I."

"I love you."

Boomer paused, staring at her, mulling her words over in his head. Somehow it wasn't hard to say it back. "I love you." His vows felt half-hearted in comparison to those words, who they were meant for, truly.

By now she was crying untamed tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. She was looking away, shoulder occasionally wracking as she brought her arms up to hug herself.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket and paid for the cup of coffee before getting up and walking to her side of the booth. He held out his hand. "This isn't the place."

At this point in their relationship their hesitation was near nil.

Still, it surprised him how fast she took his proffered hand.


	2. Chapter 2: Ideal

**Title: Ideal**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Brick/Bubbles**

 **Warnings: Mild sexual implications, implied drug abuse and minor OOCness**

 **Notes: This was a spontaneous bout of inspiration that left me in a minute or two, so please excuse the first person POV.**

* * *

It was either really late at night or extremely early in the morning, the rain that had showered the city left the air cool and damp, Bubbles was smiling and I felt nothing.

I didn't feel anything at all, as if a void was emptying me of all possible feeling.

I didn't know if this was because I was me, or because she was her, but I knew something wasn't right. Lately, nothing felt right. But I suppose this could've been because nothing felt wrong either. I desperately hoped this would later be clarified in a puff of dazzling white smoke, but until then, everything escaped me.

And maybe that's why I made the decisions I made, and did what I did in desperate acts to feel anything. To make my life less pathetic, and regain the sense of self I once had.

Whatever the reason, I was not with Bubbles for that. Bubbles was there because when I was with her I felt sane. I felt okay. I _felt_.

And maybe without her I wouldn't be anything more than that, but that could also be the reason I needed to be without her. I needed to feel like myself without her.

I reached into the cabinet next to me and sighed heavily when I couldn't find a syringe. It wasn't that I needed it, but I sure as hell wanted it. It sparked my greed for the 'me' that I wished to be. I was beginning to think I couldn't feel like myself without it.

Bubbles turned over and wrapped her arm and leg around me. She gave me a delicate squeeze and I felt the slight sweat on her slim curves, and taut belly subtly press against my body.

Strands of her short blond hair stuck to her cheeks and my shoulder. Sleepy yet satisfied stunningly blue eyes blinked up at me questioningly. She probably just heard the noise.

"I lost my sleeping pills," I tell her bluntly.

She blinks a few more times before letting go of me and reaching over to the other side of the bed where her bag was on the floor. I took in the curve of her back while she moved. When she came back up she offered me a tube of pills.

I frowned. "What's this?"

"Something." She giggled, reverting to her previous position.

I decide against it until morning and place the bottle on my bedsie table.

"Hey, you seemed off today." Bubbles mentioned. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I deadpan, hoping she'll back off. I don't feel like talking about myself, I never have. The thing with Bubbles is, she doesn't give a fuck about that.

So naturally she looks up at me with a pout that makes me want to kiss her and says, "No, not nothing. Please talk to me."

And maybe this is one of the reasons I love her. She adamantly cares.

I still can't bring myself to tell her _the_ truth, so I tell her a truth instead; "I'm going away for a while."

Bubbles instantly frowns. "What does that mean?"

"That I'm leaving the city,"

My brothers and I had discussed it numerous times. Our fathers, or at least one of them, wouldn't mind giving us money.

"I don't understand." Bubbles whispers this softly. I couldn't hope for her understanding. She has a dependable father, hope for a future and a definite plan. I had none of that and wasn't going to just _get_ them. I did however want two of those three things, and this want was something she'd never had, so she wouldn't understand. But she would try, and that was okay.

I kiss her forehead and tell her as much. "You don't have to."

"Will you be back?"

"Yes."

"I love you." She declares softly, and cuddles impossibly close to me. I hold her tightly.

"Hmm..."

Maybe she never asked too many questions because she was tired, or didn't take me seriously. Or maybe, in some place deep inside her she was too scared to hope for anything else.

Things would change if I left, and I wonder if she would too. I assume her lack of questioning my judgement means she'll wait. I assume she means it when she says she loves me. I could be wrong. I'm terrified that I'm wrong.

Maybe that's why I don't tell her I love her, or search for answers to my own feelings. Maybe that's why all these 'maybes' will always be exactly that. Maybe.

Something I knew for certain was that she was my only reason to stay. And that's why I needed to go.


	3. Chapter 3: Mishaps

**Title: Mishaps**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairing: Blossom/Butch**

 **Warnings: -**

 **Notes: Thank you for the reviews, I'm extremely grateful for your feedback, and will eventually reply to them. I haven't much time for that, I'm sorry. Again, no powers.**

* * *

Blossom worked her way to a bench and plopped down. Princess Morbucks' mansion was a like a maze, even more so with crowds of people at every corner, either dancing or drinking or halfway to fucking.

Why did she even go to that party? It was a senseless idea. She'd gone on a whim, having been invited to it in the first place. Why hadn't she _declined_?

 _"C'mon, you don't ever have fun,"_

 _"You don't,"_

Ah, she remembered, because of him. They were not alike, still she was infatuated with him.

 _"You don't ever have fun,"_

Butch agreed with Robin when she said that, it made her ears burn.

She was already tipsy, but not having fun.

Slight bitterness settled with the sorrow in her chest, and she hiccoughed. _Fun_. Robin said she should have fun, and she should. She hadn't really tried it. Blossom forced a grin on her face and stood up.

She walked inside and took a can of some sort of fruit flavoured alcohol from the fridge, opening it and taking a gulp. It wasn't that bad, it was fizzy and tasted like mangoes and something foreign. She took giant gulps until it finished. She searched the fridge for another, but could only find bottles of the same brand. She twisted the cap, and sipped it into the lounge where people were dancing.

She felt slightly light-headed, but danced on her own. Her hips and shoulders moved rhythmically with the music. Blossom didn't want to dance anymore, so she pushed away from him. All the while taking sips while heading to a nearby couch. When she sat down she was approached by a boy with very pretty eyes. He hit on her as she dazedly listened, but then he started kissing her and she had to push him away. She slapped him too, for good measure.

Quite offended, she got up and poured herself another drink. It wasn't as nice as the mango drink, but it was obviously spiked with something and that's what she wanted. She felt a tad dizzier, clinging to the red cup, found a door frame to lean on. She wondered where Butch was.

She'd tripped about ten times on some liquid that someone had spilled somewhere, before realizing she might have made a mistake by staying, as she wasn't having fun anymore.

Where was Butch? He was…she couldn't remember where she'd seen him last. She was sad about him, though. He was...

She swallowed thickly at the fog that gathered over the memory. She blinked rapidly, feeling tired all of a sudden. Bed…

She didn't know where the bed was. She remembered a bench though, and ventured to find that. It was much cooler outside, she couldn't decide if she liked it or not. Blossom laid down on the bench. She didn't like feeling as if she had no control over her body like this. The world was slowly spinning, and stopping, and spinning again.

It was awful. The words that she spewed were uncontrollable, and everything felt alright to do, though she knew better, she felt differently, and she'd come with Butch, and now he wasn't there.

"Blossom!" That was her name.

She felt herself being lifted by strong arms. Opening her eyes, she met dark, green ones, black tresses fell over them untidily. She was being shaken and she didn't like it but telling him to stop seemed impossible for her tongue.

"Butch," she mumbled, swallowing, and he stopped.

"Fuck. What's wrong with you? What have you been drinking?" He frowned. "Did you drink the punch? " She nodded extremely slowly. "Fuck, Bloss, you need to go home."

She agreed, but she didn't voice it, she wasn't feeling…alright.

Butch's eyes widened. "Blossom, you reek of booze."

She gripped his shoulders because the world was spinning again. "I was having fun," she mentioned, "Then I drank the punch and..."

"Making out with random's is not your idea of fun." He was giving her a weird look that she'd only seen him give her a handful of times. She could smell the alcohol on him.

"You hypocrite!" She said it louder than intended. "You – _you_ don't know what my idea of fun is!"

"Bloss, I'm taking you home." He said sternly. And suddenly she felt sick, whether because she choking on her words, or her thoughts weren't really as loud as usual, she thought maybe it was both.

She couldn't help but feel as if he were mad.

"Butch, I _was_ _._ " Blossom insisted, on what she wasn't entirely sure, but her hands moved to his neck, she closed her eyes. "I'm still having fun." It was whispered just before their lips met, and she kissed him slowly.

When he didn't react she pulled away, staring into his half lidded eyes, before his chin tilted and his mouth covered hers again. When his arms enclosed around her waist, her heart skidded, hands started moving and she kept on gently urging him to copy her, kissing his neck, lightly licking below his jaw, guiding one hand up to her chest, while helping the other down her waist.

It was when she bit his bottom lip that he pulled away. Blossom's eyes fluttered open, the heat in her cheeks blooming, and her smile slowly dissipating.

"Do you like me, Butch?" She asked, burying her face in his neck while wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. She felt too comfortable, and too sick, and too happy. Time was either going too fast or too slow, she couldn't tell. Something was bound to go wrong, and she shouldn't have had that many cans of whatever-it-was. Her eyelids were heavy and drooping over her eyes, and she felt as if she were holding onto Butch tighter with each passing second he didn't respond. This was too clingy, it wasn't her, but she just really wanted to hold him.

He didn't answer her still. So she tried again. "It's...I would like to go home. But I'm afraid I'll fall asleep on the – on the side of the road. That's… _uncomfortable_ ," she felt the tears gather in her eyes. "You – you know the thing is, I don't even know why I'm here anymore. I came here, mostly to just experience it. But I thought that would be with you. Then it wasn't. And _fuck,_ I n-need to know because I like you and I can't do this anymore." She winced at how watery her voice sounded and she didn't know if he was listening or not, but he was holding her too, his arms lightly enclosing around her form.

Her eyes closed and she couldn't say she heard his response, or that he even gave her one.

She'd be happy to forget she even expected one.


	4. Chapter 4: Infinite Impossibilities

**Title: Infinite Impossibilities**

 **Rating: T**

 **Warnings: -**

 **Pairing: one-sided Buttercup/Boomer**

 **Notes: Can't stop with Boomercup.**

* * *

It was close to sunrise when he was found in the woods. The air was crisp and rushed along his goose bumps, but he didn't have the drive to leave so he didn't bother to move, even when he sensed her approaching. Of course she'd find him _here_.

Boomer watched as shapely legs dangled over the branch of the tree as Buttercup gingerly placed herself next to him. He didn't bother looking to see who it was, he knew it was her. She wore her ankle boots and stylishly slashed shorts, and no doubt for whatever she predicted would happen that night. She was too close, and he briefly contemplated shifting away from her.

Buttercup was probably confused by his behaviour – his unabashed, jokester aesthetic replaced by an unfamiliar sullenness radiating off him in waves. The girl next to him was angry, he could tell, but he didn't know why. Boomer wondered if she ever expressed her sadness in any other way.

"Hey," she greeted expectantly, and he supposed that was a step in the right direction, but he wished she would just leave. Contrary to that girl sitting next to him, that _best_ friend of his, he knew exactly what he felt. He didn't swallow his emotions, bury them to dig them up another day – or better yet; completely ignore them.

For the most part his heart was intact, but her presence was slowly contaminating any sort of control he had over his emotions – it _hurt_. Just being next to her made him feel things that he did not want to feel accompanied by the burning sting of rejection.

After a while of being ignored she frowned and asked, slightly reproachfully, "Why are you out here?"

 _I could ask you the same thing,_ Boomer thought, bitterness making his lips curl. It was Mitch Michelson's nineteenth birthday, so naturally; a party was held in the trailer park where he lived. Boomer assumed he didn't have an eighteenth birthday celebration when Harry Pitt announced this, apparently, huge event.

He'd left the party hours before she had tracked him down, he could only wonder why she left in the first place. He peaked at her. She wasn't looking at him, rather focusing on the sky. Whatever light was left in the evening shone on her features. The light bombarded off of her short, messy charcoal tresses and made her jade orbs glow. She was beautiful.

He stayed silent, just looking at her for a while longer before answering her, "I just wanted some air."

If she knew he was lying, she didn't voice it. Boomer decided it was time to leave before anymore strain was put onto his emotional capacity. He felt it would be better if he dealt with the pain by himself – if he didn't want to dent their relationship any more than what he already might have.

"I think I've had enough air for tonight," He stated, but the tightening in his chest belied that excuse for a joke. Her eyes scanned his face inquisitively. "Wouldn't want ol' Mojo to worry…I know how that sounds, but maybe he's decided to try and _act_ like a parent for once. Wouldn't wanna miss that."

He was levitating slightly when Buttercup's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, he whipped his head to her in surprise. Her eyes were wide and pleading. Boomer stared at her for less than a minute – but for what felt like hours – before he lowered himself onto the branch again, barely aware that he was sitting closer to her than before. He noticed and tried to ignore the bruise-like marks on her neck.

Boomer didn't know how to react to that, she looked hesitant to tell him something, but really they never kept secrets from each other, san the way he kept his feelings for her to himself. He belatedly noticed she hadn't let go of his wrist where both their hands rested on his lap, and it made his heart thud faster at the feeling of her touch. Looking at her, it seemed she noticed too, and was staring at her hand. Boomer didn't really know what to make of the sensation, but he ignored how much he liked it and avoided staring at her lips.

Seeming at a complete loss for words, Buttercup sighed and told him what was on her mind anyway. "I…I thought you'd left. Like your brothers."

"I couldn't leave." Boomer knew he'd never leave, because she'd never leave.

But he would be lying if he said he never thought about it.

"You kissed Mitch." He suddenly blurted. He didn't know how it escaped, ever since he saw it happen it left a disgusting taste on his tongue, and the words were spewed out before he could think.

"How did you…" Buttercup trailed off, releasing her firm grip. She might've come to a conclusion all her own, and gulped inaudibly as she thought of her and the brunette behind his trailer.

Boomer peeked at her face. For whatever reason; her cheeks were a deeply tinted red and her gaze left his, and she muttered "Yeah" in confirmation of his statement.

For a myriad of reasons Boomer felt completely entitled to just fly away right at that moment, if only to subdue the burning in his stomach, but he quelled the urge easily.

Swallowing his heartache and forcing himself to look at her. He asked her, "Did you…like it?"

In truth this was also something that had been running amuck in his head that he wanted to know more for himself than just for friend-speak.

"I…" Buttercup looked away, at the moon. "Yeah, I did."

"Are you in love?" The blonde swallowed thickly in his attempts to make the question sound light-hearted, as he would if he weren't pathetically in love with her.

Buttercup looked at him through thick, dark lashes, making his breath hitch. "What?"

Chortling half-heartedly, Boomer added, "I know you've _liked_ him since fourth grade, so do you love him now?" he watched as a rosy hue began to dust on her cheeks that made his heart pivot to his stomach. He looked away and snickered.

"You're an idiot," She laughed with him.

"So, you are in love?" He asked again, jokingly, but he already knew the answer.

"Yeah...I guess I am." She answered, smiling a real smile so he knew it was the truth.

Truly, honestly, painfully, he smiled back.

"I'm happy for you."

And he meant it.


	5. Chapter 5: Dulled to a Throb

**Title: Dulled to a Throb**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairing: Butch/Bubbles**

 **Notes: This will be updated very frequently now that I'm on break. I like the whole deal where Bubbles is the family's strength. No powers AU, again. Next time I think there shouldn't be so much angst. I'm thinking of just taking suggestions though, so if you want something, I'd be more than willing to oblige.**

* * *

Unsteady legs clad in black pants wobbled beneath the gaze of glowing emeralds as he stood up and flushed away his late lunch.

The lighting, though fleeting between his unwilling eyelids, was fluorescent and burning. His stomach was about to digest itself, and his carefully controlled steps were as steady as his blurred vision, the mirror was perfectly still, only moving with his reflection; somehow.

He needed to take something that would ease the promising repentance for irresponsible drinking. Still, as always, he would regret nothing for the easy comfort of the sin.

Butch had victoriously managed to get to the doorway and kick the half-opened door intensely enough for it thud against the wall. A magical fairy had granted his wishes and laid the pain capsules on his dresser with a glass of water.

Satisfied, he slowly began undressing. If he had bothered to inspect the room, he would've noticed the glowering expression directed at him from the bed, but he was only interested in gulping the pain pills so he could sleep and succumb to the auspicious abyss sleep offered.

However after practically falling under the covers, his precious magical fairy didn't seem too pleased, as he was meat with a sarcastic; "Oh, well, good night then."

Unintelligible hobble-gobble escaped his mouth in reply. Bubbles wasn't having any of it.

"What's going on, Butch?" She phrased it in such a way that made it seem if she'd been asking that very same question the entirety of his return home. If she was hoping for drunken replies, he would sourly oblige. Sleep was exponentially more appealing than going through the travesties that compelled him to search for solace by the means of destroying his liver.

His eyes were already closed, too. His mind was made up. Persistent, a small hand lightly slapped his cheek. He groaned in protest, peeking at her. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned in a reprimanding manner that only a mother could give.

"Is it because Boomer is here?" She asked softly. He nodded once, prepared to forfeit to sleep again, but no such luck.

"Babe, Cal wouldn't stop crying. I'll let you have just this once, but you can't go drowning your feelings in alcohol all the time. I need help." The slight pleading tone to her voice gave her his full attention.

He moved to hug her middle, laying his head on her still-chubby tummy.

He didn't know how to explain to her that he'd decided to just lose his senses after work. Somehow it didn't feel as if he lived a stable life at all when Boomer was around. Somehow he felt like he was younger and foolish, and ridden with bad decisions. Guilt- laden, irresponsible and wracking with grief. With Boomer it felt like his other sibling should be present as well. The impossibility of that being true in all but memory seemed to knot his stomach.

Boomer had come in hopes that sharing this day would've somehow dull their pain. He probably wasn't even home at this moment.

But Butch knew it wouldn't be so easy.

He began to gently rub the side of his beloved's hip with his thumb and she gently began to stroke his dark hair. He wondered if she'd gone to the cemetery. It seemed like something she would do.

"We'll be okay," She reached her hand out to him, her left one. He pictured it bejewelled and glowing with white gold and a modest diamond, because even his fantasies were dipped in realism. He reached out to touch it, bring it closer to him, litter her hand with kisses.

He imagined her twinkling blue eyes look into his eyes, smiling a wide, toothy smile.

It didn't take her much, but somehow through the sincerity of her cadence, Butch could allow himself the luxury of being lulled into a sense of ease.

A lurid cry pierced through their comforting silence, and Bubbles lightly pushed him off of her before leaving to exit their room. She turned back to him, flashed him a grin that didn't reach her eyes, and disappeared to lull their daughter.


	6. Chapter 6: Innocence

**Title: Innocence**

 **Rating: K**

 **Notes: Normal AU. Short and sweet.**

* * *

"I'm sorry,"

The mutter floated from her lips, round and awestruck, to his ears that weren't listening. His face glowed a fierce red to his ears and he was staring at her in confusion, a hand nestled against his cheek.

She didn't quite know what had taken a hold of her. She was just as surprised as her companion was, and utterly embarrassed.

They were both next to her bed, on the knees and facing one another. All she could to keep from imploding was look at the floor. Blossom could feel her face fume, being that she was utterly appalled, and she could only offer him an apology for her in-the-moment behaviour.

The boy kneeling opposite her was unassuming when it happened. He'd looked so happy and excited because he'd won their game of checkers, which he'd played begrudgingly. He was cute in his victory, and she was overwhelmed, to put it simply.

His bewilderment at the whole situation was almost aggravating. Had he never been kissed before? It was only the cheek.

Actually he'd probably never been kissed before, but she didn't dare utter another word. She didn't know if she feared rejection or not, the butterflies in her stomach made her nervous – period.

But the blushing eleven year-old friends were far from a similar line of thought.

Boomer, with his thick, bright-blond hair that his fathers' tried to groom, and his innocent dark blue eyes, leaned forward until he was so low he had to balance on his hands, and looked up at Blossom.

"Well," He began as soon as he caught her glance, "I think we should do it again."

Blossom stared at him blankly. Boomer stared at her expectantly.

When she made no hints at moving, he leaned forward and lightly pecked her mouth with his own.

He instantly moved backward, as fast as if she'd burned him, until he was sitting upright on his knees again.

What ensued was a minute long staring contest, in which Boomer smiled sheepishly, and Blossom stared at him; dumbfounded.

Then, as if the absurdity of it all had finally caught up with them; they broke out into a fit of laughter.


End file.
